Love is Weakness
by KismetandKindred
Summary: "It started as a simple need to release tension – an animalistic instinct that led to two consenting adults having sex more often than not. It was pleasurable and addictive, but Robin had grown weary of the lack of light in her eyes." Takes place during the Missing Year in the EF.


Here's a little bit of sexy, angsty Regina and Robin (and a little bit of Roland) for you all. These are moments from the Missing Year in EF, a glimpse into Regina's healing.

Enjoy and don't forget to review!

 **Love is Weakness**

This wasn't the first time Regina had wound up between his legs.

It started as a simple need to release tension – an animalistic instinct that led to two consenting adults having sex more often than not. It was pleasurable and addictive, but Robin had grown weary of the lack of light in her eyes. Whatever darkness had occupied her mind when she had first arrived here had found its way into her heart and Robin worried it would soon find its way into his.

Regina looked up from where she kneeled, her hair forming a mussed halo around her flushed face, and Robin couldn't help but be enchanted. The only spark in her eyes was one of feral power, a glazed possessive look that turned the brown of her eyes into deep wells that held no end to their depths. It was terrifyingly mesmerizing, and yet, Robin thought, still beautiful. Everything about this woman was beautiful, even the pain weighing down her entire being.

He flinched as her nails dug into the inside of his thighs, leaving red grooves on the skin. She nipped at his flesh, smirking, and wrapped a hand around his shaft, squeezing harder than necessary. Robin hissed and grabbed at her hand. There were times when they enjoyed a bit of roughness, but Regina wasn't hurting him for his own pleasure, she was trying to get someone to feel her pain.

She tried to pull her hand away from his grasp, but Robin held tight. The barest flicker of confusion passed over her face as he pulled her to stand. She leaned against him, chest pressing against his torso, mouth slightly open. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her free hand scratching the skin of his chest. Robin felt the throbbing between his legs increase as the bare skin of her thigh rubbed against him and he kissed her, hard. His other hand grabbed at the hair at the base of her skull, keeping her in place. He kept his lips pressed to hers for as long as he could, knowing very well that this might be the last time.

He pulled away, aware of the fact that he might be about to sabotage whatever this was between them.

Regina's eyes were dark, as always, and her lips swollen. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving in time with his. She smiled at him, raising her head to kiss him again, but Robin stopped her.

"What is it?" Her voice was low, seductive.

Robin watches her for a moment, trying to see passed the permanent mask of vain indifference etched onto her face. "What?" She asks, a sharpness forming in her eyes.

"Talk to me."

"I wasn't aware that talking was on the agenda." She smiled coyly. "Are you not enjoying yourself?"

She bit her lower lip enticingly, trailing her fingers lightly over his chest and down his torso.

"Regina." His voice is as firm as the hand stopping hers from going any lower. He can see the annoyance forming in her features.

"Are you done playing, thief?" There's a bite to her tone and Robin knows to tread carefully.

"We're not playing a game."

"Pity," she shrugs. "I was having fun." She sounds flippant, but Robin can read her, can tell that the squaring of her shoulders means she's shutting him out.

He runs his hand from her wrist up her arm, resting against the delicate space between her neck and shoulder, kneading the skin with his fingers. Imperceptibly, she leans into him, as tired as he is from all of this.

"What do you want, Robin?"

"Tell me," he responds simply, as if his words are not the riddle they truly are.

"Tell you what?" Regina responds just as plainly, but he can tell she's fighting the urge to buckle under the intensity of his stare.

"Tell me what hurts you so. What was lost to you?"

Regina attempts but fails to stifle the audible rush of air that escapes her lungs as her whole body deflates. She wavers for several moments before taking a deep breath, squaring her shoulders once more, and forcing her mouth into a tight grim line. She pulls away, refusing to look at Robin as she readjusts her dress.

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

This wasn't the first time Robin watched Regina walk out of a room, leaving him alone, but it would be the first time he didn't follow.

…

The next time Regina saw Robin, he was being scolded by his son.

" _Papa_ ," Roland whined. "You're doing it wrong!"

"How can I be doing it wrong?" Robin looked utterly lost as Roland planted himself on the ground, arms crossed and lips pouted.

"You're not playing right!"

"What does that even _mean_?" Robin copied his son, folding his arms across himself as he plopped onto the newly-green forest floor.

"Seems to me that you're not the man for games, Locksley."

Robin turned, startled, as Regina made her way into the clearing.

"'Gina!" With his frown turned upside down, Roland launched himself up and at Regina, arms outstretched. She accepted his embrace stoically, smiling at him with a tenderness that lasted only until his arms released her and he turned away, pulling her towards Robin.

"I enjoy playing when I understand the game." Robin stood, greeting her. "I seem to have forgotten how to play Thief and Sheriff."

"Let me guess," Regina smirked. "You're the thief."

Robin shrugged. "One would think."

Regina bent down to look at Roland. "Papa's supposed to be the sheriff, isn't he?" Roland nodded, dark curls bouncing on his head.

"I thought he'd want to be the good guy," said Robin.

"Are you saying you're a villain?"

"What?" Robin looked confused for a moment before he understood.

"You'll find," Regina said, "that what some might see as bad, others see as good. Roland sees you as the hero, not the outlaw."

"I just thought –"

"You'll also find," she cut him off, "that games don't require quite as much _thinking_."

…

"It would seem that my son has taken quite the shine to you," Robin says as he looks up at Regina through his lashes from where he sits on the ground. Roland had run off to play with Little John, leaving the two of them alone in the clearing.

"He obviously has excellent taste," Regina retorts, her voice a teasing purr as she watches him from the corner of her eye.

He responds with a chuckle and a flash of dimples. "That he does, m'lady." He moves swiftly, taking advantage of the light atmosphere to grab her hand, placing the softest of kisses against her knuckles, before letting go.

"He must get it from his father."

There's a blush slowly creeping up Regina's neck and Robin knows it's because of him, and though she is teasing and smiling seductively in his direction (a sight that has him imagining that look being thrown his way during a much more intimate encounter), he can sense the tension between them, and he can see the small glimmer of happiness their back and forth has incited flicker and die before it reaches her eyes.

Her eyes, as always, are dark, clouded with the hue of an overwhelming loss that he has never seen fade. He says nothing, sitting in silence beside her until she breaks it.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice is no louder than a whisper yet weighed down with an almost tangible heaviness.

He shrugs, attempting to ease the strain around them. He says nothing still, waiting for her to fill in the silence. She doesn't and eventually Robin shifts closer to her.

"Regina," he whispers her name so close to her ear that she can feel his warm breath caress her skin and though she would never admit it out loud, his voice calms her, and the proximity of his warm body has her leaning towards him. "Tell me about your son."

 _Henry_.

Just thinking his name unlocked something within her. Regina breathed deeply, trying to claw her way out of the darkness that has taken hold in her heart.

Robin can feel her body shaking, wracked with a pain she cannot express, a pain he cannot fathom. And though he does not know what she feels, he does know – can feel it somewhere deep within him – that she needs him, needs his strength.

"He wanted to be a hero." Her voice is quiet, but strong.

"Like his mother."

"No," she scoffed, shaking her head. "Not like me."

 _I'm done reading about heroes. I want to be one_.

Regina never wanted to be a hero. Growing up she had read about them, but the few she has come across did nothing but ruin her life time and time again. They are the reason she became what she is: a villain.

It had been a long time since she thought of herself as anything else. And though she isn't particularly happy about it, she did mean what she said in Neverland. She had no regrets – couldn't have any regrets. Because she had Henry.

But now she doesn't. All because she chose to be a hero.

Winter had come and gone with an unyielding fervor. The days grew shorter, the nights longer, but it all seemed insubstantial. There were no more days, nights, weeks, or months. Only hour upon hour, minute upon minute, agonizing second followed by agonizing second. And yet Regina knew exactly how long it has been since they landed in this god-forsaken forest.

Ninety seven days.

It has been ninety seven days since she last saw her beautiful baby boy, and Regina has survived every single one of those days for no other reason than because Henry would have wished it. The ache in her soul remained steadfast, never subsiding, never allowing a moment of peace. Not that she would ever wish for even a moment of reprieve from the pain, for the only thing that could provide her that would be forgetting. And to forget is an option she would never allow herself to consider.

…

At some point Robin's arms had come to rest around her middle, and as she talks about her son he squeezes her tightly and his breaths brush comfortingly against her cheek.

They stay like this for long moments until her breathing begins to even out and the tremors of her body being to subside. She takes several deep breaths and lifts her hands, which have been grasping his around her middle as if they were a lifeline, to wipe at the tears she hadn't realized had fallen.

Slowly she looses his arms but does not allow him to drop them from around her as she turns in his embrace to face him. He can clearly see the pain in her dark eyes, but there is something else there too – gratitude. A gratitude he knows she cannot voice, but he does not need her to. He places a kiss against her temple.

She leans into his frame once again as she rubs her hands up and down his biceps before hooking her arms around his neck. He knows she is shaken, broken, but her body is pressed against his own in all the best ways, and her lips are so enticing, he cannot help but glance down at them and wonder if they taste as good as they look.

Regina notices Robin's wayward glances at her mouth and without even a moment of hesitation, she kisses him.

Robin wants to push Regina away, to not take advantage of her in this vulnerable state, but the urgency of her lips on his tell him not to. They tell him she needs this just as much as he wants it; she needs the release, the distraction. She would never see her son again, yet she couldn't mourn him. To mourn would be to accept and Regina wasn't ready to accept this loss.

Robin isn't sure when the sun went down or how he had failed to notice, but the forest had turned dark and quiet around them. Regina's lips are warm against his, her mouth inviting and he is soon lost in the sensation of her. His patience is almost nonexistent and he pushes against her, hands wrapping around her hips and pulling her onto his lap.

He lets out a breathy whisper of her name, "Regina?"

She meets his gaze but doesn't respond vocally, merely guides his hands to the front of her dress, placing them against her chest. He can feel her heart beating, the rhythm pounding against his palm. He moves one hand back to her waist, working at the lace on the front of her corset and freeing her from it.

"You are exquisite," he breathes against her neck as his mouth suckles the junction between her neck and shoulder. His hands roam freely across the now bare skin of her back while his mouth moves slowly down her front. His mouth latches onto her breast, tongue and teeth rubbing against the pert nipple. He feels her chest rumbling as she moans, head tilted back, and the thought crosses Robin's mind that they aren't far from camp and anyone out for a late night stroll could easily find them. It takes less than a second for him to decide that he doesn't care. Regina's hands are yanking at his hair, pushing his head down as she began to grind against him, rocking her hips against his own. Soon enough it's his groans that fill the clearing, mixing with her heady breathing as her hands slide down his torso to the laces of his trousers.

He shifts under her, making it easier for the material to loosen and enabling her to wrap a hand around him. She looks at him as she pumps her hand up and down and their eyes meet. Robin's hands leave her hips, gently brushing a few loose wisps of hair back before holding her face between his hands. He tenderly pulls her face down, pressing her mouth to his. Her hand falters as his keep hold; she grips his wrists then splays her fingers over his hands. There is no air and she feels lightheaded, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she drinks him in, pulls the air from his lungs into her own, letting the very essence of him flow through her veins.

She needs him. Needs him now.

She grinds down, hard, and he bites her lip in response. She pulls one hand away from her face, directing it down to her skirt. His hand pauses on the edge of the fabric, eyes never leaving hers. She's sure he can see the yearning in her blown pupils the same way she can see the raw desire overtaking him, but still he stops and waits for her to give him permission.

With a barely perceptible nod and a impulsive lick of her lips, Robin knows it's been given. He slides his hand up her thigh, slowly, lightly, fingers dancing over the silky skin. He kisses her again as his hand goes higher, with less fervor than before, but with just as much want. He feels her breath hitch as his fingers find the apex of her thighs and he moans, realizing she isn't wearing any small clothes. There is nothing between the heat of her and his own skin.

He finds her wet and wanting as he caresses her folds, a growl reverberating deep in his throat. He slides his fingers back and forth with barely any pressure, watching as her eyelids glide shut and her head falls slightly back. He puts more pressure in his fingers, making sure she feels him and, when she rocks into his hand, knowing he is the one in control.

He pumps in and out of her and feels the hushed moans she releases go straight to his own need. She moans louder as his fingers find the swollen part of her and begin to rub over it in tight, stiff circles. She is panting against him, each breath like an enchantment flowing from her mouth to his and knows he is no longer in control.

She shifts on top of him, her hand displacing his as she wraps her fingers around his shaft, holding him steady as she slides down on him. It is slow, and easy, and he groans at the feel of her tight and wet around him. She bounces a bit, just enough for him to feel her muscles shifting around him.

It isn't long before Robin reaches his climax. He wants nothing more than to enjoy the bliss of the moment, but feels Regina moving off him. He goes to touch her, to bring her to climax as well, but she stops him with a hand and a shake of her head.

"But –" She places a finger against his mouth, keeping him quiet.

"I'm alright." She smiles at him, the corners of her mouth barely turning up and Robin doesn't like it.

"Regina," he starts, but she shakes her head and repeats herself.

"I'm alright."

They sit there quietly, Regina's palm resting against his chest, his hands holding her loosely around the waist. She's not looking at him now, her head bowed so he can't see her face. He lifts one hand to cover hers over his chest, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles.

"You're not," her fingers clench against him, her entire body tensing as he whispers in her ear. "But I'm here."

It takes one apprehensive moment before she slumps against him, too tired to fight away the pain of ninety seven days. He cups the back of her head when her forehead rests against his shoulder and she begins to cry.

Slowly he eases them back until they are lying together in the grass, the sky and the stars covering them. She tries to pull away from him twice, but he wraps his arms around her, holding tight, until she stops trying. She sobs mutely, her breath hitching in her chest the only noise. When she's done, it's no quieter in the clearing than it had been before, and Robin lets the silence reign.

"What are we doing?"

Her voice sounds clogged when she speaks, and he knows this won't be the last time she cries.

Robin doesn't look down at her, instead he keeps his eyes trained on the beauty of the night sky. "I'm lying in a field enjoying nature in all her glory. What are you doing?"

She chuckles against him. It's a light girlish sound he never expected from her, definitely not now and it lights a spark in his chest.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

Her voice is small and far away, like the stars in the sky. Robin places a kiss on her forehead before lying back in the grass.

"You're grieving."

"When will it end?"

"It won't." He sighs as she turns her face into him, using him as a barrier against tears that needed to fall. "You will never get over losing your son." He holds her tighter. "You cannot get over the loss of a loved one." She shudders against him, breath tickling his skin. "But you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you've suffered."

"I don't have to forget?"

He combed his fingers through her hair, his thumb tracing a pattern on her temple. He shook his head. "Why should you forget someone you still love? You don't need to take that away in order to heal. That love is a constant, like the sky."

Regina looked up. The sky was a murky blue, too dark to see anything in it. Except the stars. Those were bright; flickers of light standing out against the darkness. She sighed. It looked endless, that darkness, yet deep down she knew it was limited. But the sky would always be the sky.

Regina shifted, burrowing further into the warmth of Robin's arms around her. His chin rested on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her middle. She felt safe and, for the first time in ninety seven days, lighter.

"You can tell him, you know."

"What?"

"Your son, Henry. You can tell him that you love him. The wind will carry it for you."

She looked at Robin, searching his face for a hint of a smile or some other tell that he was teasing her, but there was nothing but sincerity written in his features and his own darkness hiding behind his eyes.

"Okay."

He had lost someone, too. She knew that though there was the pain she carried, he was weighed down by his own.

Perhaps they would share.

"Okay."

They lay quietly until the blue turned black and the wind turned chilly, and as they left the clearing together, Regina cast her eyes up.

 _I love you, Henry. Bigger than the sky._


End file.
